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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422674">Getting dark (Too dark to see)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterAPlumThanDumb/pseuds/BetterAPlumThanDumb'>BetterAPlumThanDumb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Despair, Destiel - Freeform, Don't look at this too closely to canon ngl I haven't watched most of the last three seasons, Heartbreak, I left the details nice and vague, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Or so they both think anyway, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Ending, Spoilers, This is just a drabble anyway, To show Dean's thoughts after the events of the last episode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:49:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterAPlumThanDumb/pseuds/BetterAPlumThanDumb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't dwell on it. He wouldn't dwell on it. <br/>But he did. </p>
<p>(A tiny brief drabble on the moment that has finally broken 2020)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Getting dark (Too dark to see)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know, I know. Everyone and their mother will be writing stuff like this. I haven't even been in the supernatural fandom for years. But I couldn't NOT contribute after I saw it all over the internet. So here's my little baby contribution/study after Castiel's confession. <br/>And yes, there is a lot of run on sentences, but that was a deliberate choice. Sort of to reflect the fact that Dean's mind is in a hundred different places at once right now. This is probably a mess because I wrote it in one like. 20 minute sitting. But c'est la vie. Read and review, and kudos if you like!<br/>(Title comes from Knockin' on heaven's door, because who doesn't love irony).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was getting real sick of watching Castiel die. </p>
<p>He didn't know why this was the first thought that crossed his mind. It probably shouldn't have been, probably should have been something less insensitive. But, well, Dean Winchester and insensitivity sometimes went together like nature's peanut butter and jelly. It was how he often distracted himself from facing the true emotions he knew he should feel, and right now...<em>right now...</em></p>
<p>Well. He needed the distraction. </p>
<p>He didn't know how much time passed as he sat against the wall, feeling numb and feeling as though he was burning simultaneously in a twisted emotional oxymoron. Long enough for his pained sobs to dry up - <em>God, </em>he hated crying, if Sam asked he was definitely going to deny this - and his head to fall back with a thud that probably should have sent a jolt of pain through his skull, but he was too numb to notice it. Long enough for his eyes to drill a hole into the ground in front of him, staring at the spot where the former angel had stood just moments before, almost daring him to come back, to come back and give him some smug look for cheating death <em>again, </em>to come back and...and...</p>
<p>And. </p>
<p>He didn't know how to finish that sentence in his own head. Despite himself, his brain was  working in overdrive, repeating Castiel' s final few words over and over in the world's most painful mantra. </p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
<p>He was a divine being, one who had saved Dean's ass more times than the man could count, one who Dean knew, despite their occasional ups and downs over the many, many years they'd known each other, he could always rely on. Just as much as Sam. </p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
<p>He grit his teeth and covered his ears with his hands, not caring that he was acting like a little kid scared of the monsters under his bed. Dean wasn't scared of monsters, not anymore; he had fought too many of them over the years. What he <em>was </em>scared of was losing those he loved; it had already happened so many times. Too many times. How many times had he watched his own brother fall, seen his parental figures perish, seen his best friend (he refused to linger on the way the word 'friend' now left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth) struck down? The honest answer was, he didn't know. He had lost track. But every single time was raw and fresh and awful. Every single time was like losing them for the first time all over again. </p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
<p>Cas was gone. He was gone <em>again </em>and Dean should be furious, or devastated, and he should scream and shout and hit something or do <em>anything except keep repeating those words in his head. </em>But it was impossible. They kept playing like a broken record, looping over and over. Every micro-expression on Cas' face in that moment was ingrained in his mind; resignation, a brief half-smile, tearful eyes, a broken sort of fondness and a look that was <em>too </em>caring and <em>too </em>soft to ever be directed at Dean Winchester. Dean was a monster, a monster who killed other monsters. He was destructive, he was angry, he was broken. And he did not deserve to have the respect of someone like Cas, never mind the <em>heart </em>of him...</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
<p>The words were so genuine. So honest. His last words, and he deemed <em>that</em> important enough to say. He deemed <em>that </em>his happiest moment. His love for Dean had brought him higher than ever before...and had ultimately brought him crashing fatally down. The words had ruined him, in the end. </p>
<p>...<em>And Dean hadn't </em><em>said a thing in response. </em></p>
<p>His self loathing was overwhelming him as he sat in that cold, dim room. His friend's very last words, he had given a whole speech about...about how much Dean - <em>Dean! </em>- had meant to him, and the hunter had not said a thing in reply. Before he could even comprehend those last three words, the ones he had never thought he deserved to hear, and certainly didn't think he <em>would </em>ever hear...Cas was gone. Cas was gone, and he had taken his love with him and Dean had not realised how <em>warm </em>the ex-angel had made him feel until he was gone and now he just felt <em>cold. </em></p>
<p>He hadn't had a chance to say anything before Cas was gone, but if he had, what would he have said anyway? He didn't truthfully know. Thank him? Say his goodbyes? Promise to look after those Cas was leaving behind? He didn't <em>need </em>to say any of that. Cas would already have known it. The damn guy knew Dean better than anybody, sometimes even better than Sam, sometimes even better than Dean knew himself. He would know all of that, without Dean having to say a word. That's how their relationship (a deep, agonising ache resonated in his heart at the use of this word, and he firmly shut down the line of thought that whispered of what could have been) had always worked, in the end. So what could he say that Cas <em>wouldn't </em>already have known? </p>
<p>He could say that he had spent years trying to decide how to describe the exact shade of blue that Cas' eyes were, had fallen asleep at night visualising them. He could say that sometimes the intensity of Cas' gaze could send a full body shiver up Dean's spine, a spine that had stood solid and stoic in the presence of demons, hellhounds and the worst the world had to offer. He could say that on the rare occasions the two of them touched, whether in one of their few and far between hugs or in a casual brush of arms, he had often had to clench his jaw and force himself not to feel <em>something</em>, and this would be repeated on the also somewhat rare occasions Cas had interacted with women in any kind of romantic context. Cas was not his. Cas was a <em>guy. </em>Dean did not feel anything for him beyond appreciation as a friend. </p>
<p>...Until he did. Until he couldn't ignore the way their bond always felt <em>different, </em>the smug sort of possessiveness when Cas had admitted that he and Dean had a more <em>profound bond, </em>the strong relief every single time Cas returned to them after they had watched him die. At some point, Cas had become just as important as Sam. Just...in a different way. </p>
<p>He could have said any of this to Cas, and maybe that would have been enough. He was not an emotional guy, really. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, instead beneath a deep layer of metaphorical armour. He didn't <em>say </em>that he cared, he <em>showed </em>it, through actions and through lighthearted teasing and nicknames. His heart clenched with a longing that he firmly shut down as he thought of what exactly he could have done to <em>show </em>Cas how exactly he felt. Anything, to tell the angel something he did not already know. </p>
<p>...But then, maybe he did know, really. This was Cas, after all. The guy who sometimes seemed to know everything, yet also sometimes nothing at all. Maybe he had know, deep down, and that's why he had told Dean at last, in his final moments. Or maybe, before he faded, he had been able to see something that Dean himself did not even see in himself until it was too late. </p>
<p>Dean didn't know. And he wouldn't know. Cas was gone, and he would never give an answer to these questions. He would never be able to hear Dean's response to his final words. </p>
<p>But as he finally stood, ready to leave this God forsaken room, and leave Cas' final place behind, he glanced at the spot he had once stood and swallowed deeply once more. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly and schooled himself to look more neutral, less...well. Heartbroken. </p>
<p>And as the door creaked open as he slowly pushed it, he allowed himself just one more final moment before he would have to derail his thought process firmly and face his brother. </p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
<p>...<em>I love you, too, Cas. </em></p>
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